


Storms and Saints

by davidzbob



Category: Destiny (Video Game), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Cause there's def gonna be the sex, Dark and Gritty and Everything Nice, Destiny, F/M, Falling In Love, Fascism, Friendship/Love, Having Way Too Much Fun With Tags, Heavy Angst, Hunter - Freeform, M/M, Marvel Cinematic Universe - Freeform, My First Work On AO3, My First Work in This Fandom, No Fluff, Nolan North - Ghost, Science Fiction, Stucky - Freeform, The Avengers - Freeform, Titan, Warlock - Freeform, Well that's not true, Work In Progress (WIP), actually, straight to gay, winter soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-02 03:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5232806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davidzbob/pseuds/davidzbob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an ancient war waging across the Solar System between deities, alien races and war minds and the good guys are losing. At least, that is what they tell me. But what I tell them elicits no easy reply:</p><p>Who am I?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

 

 There is only Darkness.

An endless void.

Color does not exist.

Black.

But is black a color, then? Questioning.

Oh wait. A Light.

Light. A white so blinding, but so distant and small.

I can see it.

_I._

A consciousness. A something.

I am consciousness.

The Light. This blinding Light I see.

Shrouded in Darkness is all I see.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an ancient war waging across the Solar System between deities, alien races and war minds and the good guys are losing. At least, that is what they tell me. But what I tell them elicits no easy reply:
> 
> Who am I?

“...been dead a long time…”

 

“...some things you won’t understand…”

 

_ What the fuck is going on, what, what is this thing speaking to me? _ thought the man. 

 

In front of the man was a white, star-shaped origami object suspended in air—whether by a strong magnetic field, or  _ magic _ —with a bright blue iris at its center that resembled an eye.

 

“I’m your Ghost.” A male voice. Optimistic, kind of hopeful undertones. Nevertheless animatronic.

 

“What, like a spirit?” The man’s reply was scathing. Unintentional, of course. He realized he hadn’t heard his voice in quite some time. 

 

_ Did that thing roll its eyes—well,  _ eye _ —at me? _

 

“Call me what you want, Guardian.” It floated away, its spiked shell gyrating and twirling around an internal axis like a Rubix cube.

 

All around were these massive, broken bricks.  _ Wait, no, they were cars. _ Heavily rusted cars for miles. Skeletons hung behind the wheels of many, or hung limp against open doors as if they once tried to run. And all headed towards this colossal wall a few meters ahead.

 

“You said I was dead.”

 

The Ghost led the man to the wall up ahead. A stairwell in front ascended to an entrance inside the wall. “A very long time, I’m afraid.”

 

Everything was too strange. The man couldn’t remember anything, which only added to his growing frustration. His face scrunched together, like something unpleasant was offered to him. The Ghost noticed.

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

It was only then that the man realized how much it chirruped and squeaked and how annoying it was.  _ Makes my brain hurt.  _ The man pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to alleviate some stress. “What’s my name?”

 

The man looked up to meet its eye. It looked down to avoid the man’s. “I don’t know.”

 

So the man was nameless, too. What a happy day it is.

 

“Come on.” Ghost swayed away again, floating up the iron stairs. It almost appeared to be going faster, as if it was in a hurry to get somewhere. “There’s a safe haven where you’ll get some answers.”

 

The man felt a flare in his chest. A positive feeling.  _ Is it wrong for me to feel that I deserved answers _ ?

 

“Grab that rifle.”

 

The man’s reflex was automatic. Gloved fingers holstered the SUROS-branded assault rifle into the groove of his shoulder. The man felt very comfortable like this, with a gun between him and this strange new reality. The magazine was maxed out, luckily, but those were the only bullets available to use. Thirteen bullets.

 

Ghost led the man further into the wall. “We’re headed to the Cosmodrome. You have to be quiet so we don’t alert any Fallen.”

 

“The hell is a Cosmodrome?” That word escaped his mouth with a Russian lisp for some reason. It sounded vaguely familiar.

 

Ghost blinked its blue eye. “The place we’re heading to.”

 

The man was confused. He couldn’t tell if Ghost was giving him an attitude or not.

 

“The Fallen. Where did they fall from?” As they went inside further a stench filled the man’s nose. Like pest droppings. 

 

“We don’t really know. We’re still trying to cross-reference their presence on the Moon and Venus colonies and their connections with the Awoken on the Reef.”

 

_ We? _

 

There we go again. More unclear answers. But the man supposed he’ll get real ones soon once they reached the stronghold Ghost aforementioned.

 

The orange lights in the trashed hallways transitioned to complete darkness. The man’s feet clanged the farther he went against the metal walkways. Echoes resounded from the dark below.  _ We’re very high up from the ground. _

 

Ghost floated ahead, a steady light in the dark. Then all of its geometrical pieces separated instantaneously, as if it exploded, and a blue aura formed around it. Its blinding light bleached out the darkness. In the distance, the man could make out cockroaches skittering away from the sudden radiance.

 

“Oh no. Look closer, Guardian. Those aren’t cockroaches.”

 

His eyes squinted at the fleeing critters. Cockroaches weren’t bipedal…

 

_ Wait, Ghost can read my mind? _

 

A little twitter from the light. “I’m part of you. Of course I’m in your mind. Those ‘cockroaches’ are actually Fallen Dregs. Vermin, basically. And their Captains are just bigger vermin. And Skolas? Ooh, you just wait...”

 

An earsplitting roar shattered the silence, causing the man to flinch and drop the rifle with a clang on the metal. More scampering in the darkness.  _ Skolas? _

 

“Better keep a tighter grip on that gun, Guardian.”

 

_ Better keep a tighter grip on your upper lip. _

 

“I had to find a Guardian with an attitude, didn’t I?” Ghost moved on to liberate more of the darkness ahead.

 

“Violating my privacy, Ghost. You’re putting Big Brother to shame!” It squeaked and twittered some. “Ever read  _ 1984 _ ?” It made a breathy noise. Did it just gasp?

 

“I found a Guardian who predates the Collapse?!” 

 

The man wanted to say what Collapse but he could probably figure that out from the skeletons outside. “Can I get a straight answer for this question?”

 

“All I’ve given you were straight answers.”

 

Rolling his eyes the man said, “Oh-kay—how long ago was this Collapse?”

 

“Approximately five centuries ago.”

 

And silence.

 

Everything kind of just stopped. The world paused its passive rotation. Could the man even allude to that? Did the world even do that anymore? Maybe humans advanced technology enough to the point that gravity was no longer a force to compete with... 

 

_ I’m more than five centuries old? _

 

The man’s throat hitched, and the resurrected heart in his chest held a bated breath. Pain rose from his knees and consumed the brain and he soon realized he was staring at the ground. What were those shiny black puddles? A shuddering cough pushed past his teeth and he spat out blood. 

 

“Guardian! Are you okay?”

 

Ghost was in his head again, talking to him. The man’s head swung around, the world a blur, looking for Ghost but it was nowhere.

 

“Guardian, we need to keep going. In the Cosmodrome we are very vulnerable. This is no longer our territory to roam.”

 

In a single moment the man was not staring at the ground anymore but was moving, fast, and was back in the safety of urbanesque lighting. A laser beam blocked the path up ahead.

 

His head caught up with the rest of him. “Whoa, what the—.”

 

“I stitched you up,” Ghost said proudly from my side. “You burst a blood vessel, possibly from stress. I apologize if I said anything that might have triggered y—”

 

The man waved it off. “Let’s just get to the safe haven.”

 

Once he maneuvered past the security beams a shadow danced over the walls and caught their attention. He raised the gun, his pulse going up rapidly. First encounters.

 

It leapt out from the shadows. Bipedal, scrawny in appearance. Made guttural noises that sounded like a dog being strangled. It held a long dagger in one hand, and four beady blue eyes blinked in their direction. 

 

Vermin.

 

They stood still. The man and this Dreg thing. He knew it could see him, or at least sense the foreigners. Now it would be whoever made the first move. Whoever drew first blood. It hissed briefly before Ghost uttered the words, almost morbidly:

 

“Kill it.”

 

His finger pulled the trigger and the gun decided its fate. The Dreg didn’t move fast enough. A sharp whine rang out as it struck the concrete, teasing the man’s eardrums. A liquid sprayed out from where the bullet dug deep into the creature. Perhaps its own kind of blood. 

 

The man stepped around it in silence, and they moved on. It gradually lightened up, thankfully. The dark, dank atmosphere inside the wall was suffocating and the man could tell Ghost was glad they made it out. Sunset was approaching soon.

 

“Oh ho ho, don't be so happy just yet Guardian!” Ghost exclaimed. It probably picked up his vitals, because the man really was quite pleased with surviving. “We've still got a ways to go before we reach the safe haven.”

 

“Well how far are we?”

 

If Ghost was human it probably would've shrugged. “Give or take a few thousand kilometers from here.” 

 

The man couldn't help but snort indignantly. “We won't survive out here with twelve bullets and a few thousand kilometers on foot  _ at night _ in the middle of Russia.”

 

Ghost made some whirring sounds. “No one said we were in Russia.”

 

The man gave him a look that screamed sarcasm. “All of the signage around says we are,” he pointed out. “We’re in a Cosmodrome. That’s Russian, too.”

 

Ghost didn't say anything yet again. Just floated away after a moment of silence. The man was becoming agitated that he was always on the receiving end of silence.

 

“Look, did I do something wrong to deserve the silent treatment?” His hands were open wide in surrender, in wonderment. 

 

“No, Guardian, it's just…” A sigh of defeat. Or at least what sounded like one. “I am a part of you. That bond is now inseparable after I found you among the dead. Yet I am not from you. I was created by a much larger entity. And this entity is who I inherently belong to. Do you see what I'm saying?”

 

Not really. The man sighed. A sound of defeat. Or, he guessed, what sounded like one. “I'll get answers at the safe haven, right?”

 

“You will have people there with a greater capacity to provide detailed answers to your burning questions. Believe me,” Ghost reassured. 

 

It began to whir its parts again. A stream of blue lines emanated from its eye and shone on the ground. “I’m picking up signs of a jumpship in the area. Could be our ticket out of here.”

 

The old boots on the man’s feet, five centuries to be exact, crushed the gravel underneath as he stepped in line to follow Ghost to his new destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/14/2016: This chapter is now written in third-person (he/she/it) and not first-person (I, me, myself). Other minor changes.
> 
> -
> 
> Hello readers! I'm new to AO3 but have writing experience from my Wattpad account. It's been a few years since I wrote fan-fiction but I figured I'd pick it up again cause what the hell.
> 
> For 'Storms and Saints' I will do my best not to shove the universe of "Destiny" down your beautiful throats if you are not familiar with it. So keep reading, and everything shall be made known in time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an ancient war waging across the Solar System between deities, alien races and war minds and the good guys are losing. At least, that is what they tell me. But what I tell them elicits no easy reply:
> 
> Who am I?

“It’s been here awhile… Hasn’t made a jump in quite some time.” Ghost opened its retina, scanning the outer shell. 

 

The ship was huge. Not as big as the rockets standing dormant outside in the Cosmodrome, but it still fit inside this jet hangar, hung up by rusted wires and pulleys. The man was surprised it hasn’t collapsed to the ground yet.

 

“I hope it still can.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do!” The little white star disappeared, and just moments later a low bassy hum filled the room, rattling the glass windows. The walls groaned languidly, their slumber disrupted.

 

“I’m bringing you in, Guardian. It’s not going to break orbit but should get us to the Tower.”

 

The man jumped in surprise as his body began to disappear, palming his sweaty forehead. “I swear to God I hate it when you do that shit.”

 

Ghost trilled a tune as the man reappeared inside the ship’s command module. “Get used to it. I’m not going away for a long, long time.”

 

The entire trip there took at least a few hours. There was no accurate method of keeping track of time, though, so the actual amount of time probably varied. The man felt fidgety the entire trip as he contemplated all the questions that demanded answers once they reached this Tower: why was he alive—better yet—resurrected? and who decided that he should be? Who was Ghost, and why was it so incredibly annoying?  _ And why the hell am I five hundred years old? _

 

The man sat with his legs crossed in the command module in the ship, a posture he recalled from a distant memory of someone called Buddha. He didn’t know why his brain spouted  _ Buddha  _ at him but the man only knew that this position felt comfortable, and maintained his sanity.

 

“Why do you keep calling me Guardian?” It was great to ask the air and get some sort of answer in return. So maybe it wasn’t all that bad to have Ghost in his head.

 

“Because that’s what you are. A Guardian of the Last City.”

 

“Is that my destiny? Was it when I was alive all those years ago?” The man turned around to ask it, face to eye. 

 

“You know what, that’s a good question for the Tower to answer!”

 

He rolled my eyes and gave a loud grunt. “‘Course it is.”

 

“What? I’m being serious.”

 

The hills ahead were outlined in hues of blue and orange. The setting sun just escaped them minutes ago. Was that the Moon, so big and so spherical tonight?  _ We’re getting close. _

 

“The Tower is up ahead. ETA ten minutes.” Back at it again with the privacy invasion, Ghost.

 

The man made sure not to wear the excitement on his face or let his hands show it, either. But his eyes never blinked until the ship crossed over the horizon. He gazed down to marvel at a sea of lights shining back, all at ease under a massive white planet hovering dangerously close to the surface.  _ Definitely not the Moon... _

 

“What the hell is that?” He stood up to get a better look. His head grazed the ceiling.

 

“Now that is the Traveler, Protector of the Last City,” Ghost said endearingly.

 

“Is that where you came from?”

 

Chittering. “I was forged in the Light of the Traveler. And so are you.” 

 

_ Is the Traveler responsible for my resurrection? _

 

The man didn’t know exactly what Ghost meant as he stared in awe at the scene before them. Orange lights shone brightly in the darkness just off to the right, bouncing off the ship. They flew lowly over what appeared to be a docking zone, and in seconds he was no longer in the ship but standing on cobblestone instead.

 

A disturbance in the air beside the man caught his attention. Ghost reappeared there as the ship docked automatically behind them. “Welcome to the Tower, Guardian. You will live here among your brothers and sisters.”

 

_ Looked more like an outdoor cathedral than a tower, in my opinion.  _ Ten-foot banners greeted them at the base of stone steps leading higher upwards. Guardians donning full battle gear in varying assortments of color and sophistication raced past. Some vanished in mid-step. It was like a festival, a party in the middle of the night.

 

“Does anyone sleep with all the noise here?” the man joked.

 

“Is that a joke I heard?” Ghost teased. “My Guardian can crack a joke?!”

 

“Real funny, Ghost.”

 

“Well, at least  _ I _ can be.”

 

Ghost glided towards an entrance off to the side shrouded in shadows, away from the festive environment. The man followed.

 

They passed an android covered in post-its and stamps walking around in what appeared to be a post office kiosk. A cramped little place it was, too. It was beeping and whirring furiously as a line of battle-clad Guardians waited for what the man assumed was their mail.  _ People still got mail these days? _

 

“...afraid I have nothing under that name. I do apologize for the inconvenience,” the android said to one of them in line. It was female, yet spoke far less human than Ghost did.

 

“Surprised that people still rely on old-school postal services.” He was genuinely nothing short of surprised.

 

Ghost looked up at him. “There will always be those reluctant to conform.”

 

The duo ventured into a soft-lit hallway. Large boxes were stacked into a corner, presumably in anticipation for a vendor in the future to take the space. The man already took notice of a weaponsmith in the main plaza from where they came as well as others. A robot swept the floor around them. Did it realize it was only spreading the dust, not actually collecting it?

 

The man didn’t bother saying anything.

 

They came to another plaza, this one with significantly less activity.  There was a distinct feeling of solemnity in the air also.  “This is the North wing of the Tower. Where The Speaker makes his home for his studies, and such,” Ghost added.

 

Ghost led the man to a set of very tall mahogany doors. Inside was a massive gyroscope the size of a ship spinning freely, not strung up by any visible method, and stationed all around it were smaller gyroscopes. Everything looked and felt alive inside this building. Just off to the left was a spiraled staircase, and at the top the man could make out bookshelves basked in a warm, sepia glow. It was such an old-school aesthetic, a stark contrast to the cold, technologically advanced world the man was introduced to so far.

 

“This way.” 

 

The man ascended the stairs with Ghost, nerves in a frenzy in his stomach. He was secretly drowning in doubt.  _ But why? Was I afraid? _ The final step he took was shaky, insecure.  _ Afraid to hear answers about why I was alive, or afraid that I was only going to be disappointed? _ Didn’t matter. His doubts vanished when the man laid eyes on the Speaker.

 

He looked...mysterious. Cloaked in white robes and a white mask, he even appeared slightly ominous. Foreboding.  _ Did I make a mistake to come here? _

 

“Hello, Guardian.” In spite of the man’s qualms about the Speaker’s outwardly appearance, he had a calming voice. British accented. “What brings you here today?”

 

“Speaker, if I may,” Ghost said. “Today is his first day.”

 

The Speaker turned his head to Ghost, acknowledging it. “Of course. What is your name, my son?” The man tried to identify the Speaker’s eyes. Were they looking at him? 

 

“I-I don’t know,” he said lamely. There goes first impressions.  _ Fuck. _

 

“Fear not, Guardian,” he reassured. He stepped closer, putting a hand to my arm. It felt good to have a human touch after so many years of being dead, to be honest. “You are now a new man, forged in the Light of the Traveler. Give yourself a name to spare you further grief.”

 

James.

 

That was the first one that popped into his head. The man said it aloud.

 

“James,” said the Speaker. It made the corners of the man’s —  _ James’ _ — mouth turn up into a small smile. His eyes began to water too. “James, the Warlock.” He said it, said it so proudly too. Like a father’s pride for his child. How could someone be so proud of him when he had nothing? Thirty seconds ago James didn’t even have a name.

 

_ And now I have purpose. _ A reason to make his heart beat so violently and passionately in his chest, giving him new life with each breath. 

 

Finally, James felt he had received a shred of hope to justify his existence, to distinguish himself as a human and not a mangled animal like the Dreg he killed in the dark.  _ I am alive. _ And crying, too.

 

“Breathe, James,” said the Speaker, “You have been overwhelmed by uncertainty in these precious few hours of life.”

 

James couldn’t help it anymore when he put his arms around the fragile human. His eyes burned from the salt in his tears, and his throat opened and closed with each shaky breath. James was a crying mess and it was a shameful sight, but who could judge him for it?

 

“Guardian. You must be strong, now that you have rediscovered your purpose in life. Your destiny. Much will be asked of you in these trying times now that our Traveler remains dormant in the sky.”

 

He nodded into the Speaker’s shoulder, smearing all sorts of bodily excretions into the fine fabric of his white cloak. A feeling of ethereal tranquility assumed over James — the tension he felt in his face, in his arms, and his shoulders all departed from him. And it was in that sublime moment of his short re-existence that he knew he was home.

 

“You must harness the power of the Light, as you are a reflection of your Traveler. Made in his image. Your Ghost will be by your side ready to help you in times of trial.”

 

This bond, this newfound companionship was like a drug to his exhausted brain. At least James blacked out feeling at peace with his new reality before a sharp knife tore open his scalp.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/14/2016: This chapter is now written in third-person (he/she/it) and not first-person (I, me, myself). Other minor changes.
> 
> -
> 
> Again, I know some things may be confusing right now. Just stick with me, I promise things will be explained later!
> 
> Feel free to drop a comment if you noticed any errors, or just for feedback! Anything will be appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

_ I aimed to move swiftly in the dark. Something evil, sinister in its motives and energized in pace, nipped at my feet and kept my heart beating fiercely against my chest. It knew where I was, how I breathed with so much difficulty, and how the adrenaline pumped through the tense veins in my body.  _

 

_ It wanted to kill me. I knew it did. Its presence demanded spilled blood. _

 

_ But not with a graceful cut to the throat. It wanted to kill me lazily, sloppily, and salivate over my remains savagely. Carnivorously.   _

 

_ Oh my God it’s right there. Not behind me. _

 

_ In me. _

 

_ I came to a quick stop, dreading what I have discovered. My fingers, cold and shaking out of control, scrabbled at the rising bulge in my throat. I tried to heave it up using force, gagging, but this thing knew better. Hell, it was already inside me, had already become acquainted with my organs and cells! My body betrayed me as it opened the paths to my brain, so eager to invite it in. Now, it was there too. _

 

_ There was the briefest sensation of a gentle hand caressing my head, but quickly that gentle hand became a knife. A dagger engulfed in scorching flames flying into my forehead. Over.  _

 

_ And over. _

 

_ And over. _

 

_ And over. _

 

James awoke suddenly, shouting into the dark. He was weeping. He seemed to do that a lot recently.  _ How weak of me, can’t ever keep myself under control... _

 

Where was he? This wasn’t a familiar place. But then again, what was?

 

James soon realized he wasn’t alone. A pair of slanted eyes flashed at him from the darkness. Around those eyes was the outline of a head, and the head was seated on the shoulders of a female figure. And after reassessing the room it became quite clear to James that roommates would be something else to adjust to—four others were sound asleep in their beds. 

 

“Don’t worry. I still have them, too.” The eyes blinked at him. Her voice was smooth, sexy. Like she was casting a trance.

 

James laid back into the downy cushioning, ready to welcome sleep again. Conveniently, that was when his waking mind began jogging for memories.  _ Oh yeah, the Speaker. Went to him today. _ Or was today still the same day? Nothing else after that.  _ Did I black out during our meeting? Where’s Ghost? He would know. _

 

“Stop it.”

 

He started a little. It was the female with the eyes again. James looked over to where he heard her voice. The white light cast by the Traveler in the sky made it easier to see she was in a bunk bed, about seven feet away. She wasn’t looking at James anymore. She sounded sort of annoyed.

 

“How’d you—?” he began.

 

“Warlocks’ Stormcaller makes the air crackle when you’re agitated. Bad for my hair.”

 

James had no idea what she just said.

 

But that word Warlock did sound familiar…  _ Didn’t the Speaker call me that? _ Wonder what that is. Or what a Stormcaller is. Whatever.

 

The lady across the room didn’t say anything else. If James could piss her off without even knowing it, he didn’t want to know what would happen if he actually tried. 

 

He took a few deep breaths as silently as he could. Cleared his mind. Yeah, that’s better. Forgetting.

 

In the morning James learned that the woman’s name was Natasha after eavesdropping on the other Guardians talking to her. He didn’t feel brave enough to ask her directly. As a matter of fact he didn’t even feel brave enough to be seen waking up. There was no telling what was in store for him today at this place on the outskirts of the very last city on Earth underneath a fucking planet that he owes his existence to!

 

“Don’t be shy,” she said slyly. Damn it, was it that obvious?  _ No, she’s probably talking to someone else. _ He didn’t move.

 

“Okay, James. Have it your way.” Time to confront reality. “I’ll see you guys later. Cayde’s got special orders for me today.” Heels clacking away.

 

“James? Is that your name?”

 

He turned around in his bed, and saw two guys standing in the center of the room. One of them was dark-skinned, with a neat outline of facial hair around his mouth. The other one was blonde and light-skinned. Blue eyes. Very attractive. Their armor, differing shades of black and red, matched the minimal décor in the room.

 

James nodded, and couldn’t help feeling confused. “Yeah, that’s me.” How strange it was to acknowledge a name so foreign to his ears.

 

“Cool, cool. Coolio. Well I’m Sam,” the black guy said. James could tell he was trying to sustain the conversation. Least he could credit him for trying. “I’m a Hunter, if you can’t already tell.”  _ Not really, no. _

 

“I’m Steve,” said blondie. Steve asked if he could sit at James’s feet. He made room for him, and Sam leaned against the steel headboard. James had the sudden suspicion that he was being interrogated.

 

An awkward silence fell upon the three men. Birds chirped outside, and there was the sound of distant chattering. 

 

“So,” Steve began, “what’s your class, James?”

 

James quirked a brow. “Class?”

 

“Y’know… like—,” Steve waved his palms around around uncertainly, “—how Sam and Natasha here are Hunters, and how I’m a Titan...”

 

“I guess Warlock?” he offered.

 

“You’re a Warlock?” said Sam.

 

“That’s what the Speaker told me.”

 

They both gawked in surprise. James found it incredibly amusing how easily he was able to pull out so many reactions from everyone.

 

Sam made a sort of you’re-fucking-kidding-me sound. “You met the Speaker? How long you been alive, James?!”

 

“Uh, since yesterday, I guess… If what I slept for wasn’t any longer than that—”

 

“You do realize,” Sam interrupted, “that, like, nobody just goes and talks to the Speaker? Okay, so, he’s kinda like the boss of the three Vanguard leaders. And the Vanguard leaders are the highest that we mere Guardians can go to.”

 

_ Vanguard leaders? _ James popped the question.

 

“Okay so every Guardian is randomly put into one of three classes,” Steve interjected. They were competing for who would be the one to answer. “As we mentioned earlier, there’s Titan, Hunter and Warlock. All with distinct abilities, advantages, disadvantages, whatever. Now, each of these three classes have one leader that kinda supervises that respectable class. And they, like us mere Guardians—” he threw a teasing smile at Sam, “—also live in the Tower. In the Hall of Guardians.”

 

“Take me there.” There was no hesitation in James’s voice.

 

“Alright.” Steve smirked. His eyes glistened with admiration and warmth. James liked that. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/14/2016: This chapter is now written in third-person (he/she/it) and not first-person (I, me, myself). Other minor changes.
> 
> -
> 
> Any questions, anybody?


End file.
